


Marriages with Morons

by Snapp



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Drinking, Fox in a Slave Leia Outfit cause Its What We Deserve, Fox is Crying, Fox's Alcohol Abuse, Hondo being Hondo, M/M, This is pure crack, Why Did I Write This?, gays in space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25408150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snapp/pseuds/Snapp
Summary: I'm awful at summaries, so take this excerpt instead:Fox slowly opened his eyes, becoming acquainted with the dark whiskey light that streaked into the room. The next thing Fox noticed was the quite heavy barred door in front of him. He tried to move his arms again, twitching his clearly dislocated left shoulder. His wrists, elbows, knees and ankles were all tightly bound to a not-at-all-stable chair. Very poorly made if you asked him (and his back). His armor was missing, replaced with the usual Hutt getup. Great, more reacquisition forms. Fox sobbed internally. And sand.
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox/Hondo Ohnaka, CC-1010 | Fox/Thorn
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





	Marriages with Morons

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of two chapters, but my computer is being wierd~
> 
> A direct prequel to Dark Days But it's Alright going in depth on the "Commander Ohnaka" joke that Thorn made.

Fox stared, eyes wide in horror. Thorn was mercifully quiet- clearly waiting to make fun of Fox in the privacy of their bed later. Stone and Thire, on the other hand, were absolutely losing it behind him. Before Fox was even aware of it, he shot the flimsi and whirled around to his asshole brothers,

“So help me by Fett if any of you mention this to anyone, write about this to anyone, or, OR message this to anyone: I _will_ release the Ecstasy Scandal footage.” Fox gained immediate satisfaction as the Thire and Stone stopped laughing and paled, quickly nodding and making their escape. Thorn laughed jovially at Fox’s sour expression, giving him a small kiss on the cheek and whispered, 

“Keeping the outfit?” 

“Don’t we always?”

“Wear it tonight.” Thorn whispered and Fox felt himself flush as Thorn strutted out.

A now red Fox turned to the now sparking piece of flimsi, wondering if it was too late to get an annulment. 

But how, dear readers, did our beloved Commander Fox get into such a situation? Let’s rewind bitches~

* * *

Fox groaned in pain, moving slowly to try to rub his sore eyes before his vision went from black to white. He whimpered while shoulders and wrists were screaming. He felt like the time he and Thire were interrogated when Senator Churchi was in hiding under threat of assissination. Of course, nobody spilled, they all quite liked Senator Church- 

Fox slowly opened his eyes, becoming acquainted with the dark whiskey light that streaked into the room. The next thing Fox noticed was the quite heavy barred door in front of him. He tried to move his arms again, twitching his clearly dislocated left shoulder. His wrists, elbows, knees and ankles were all tightly bound to a not-at-all-stable chair. Very poorly made if you asked him (and his back). His armor was missing, replaced with the usual Hutt getup. _Great, more reacquisition forms._ Fox sobbed internally. _And sand_. 

Now, Fox was not a bitch like Skychild. He didn’t _hate_ sand. He just mildly disliked the fact that it got _everywhere_ . Fox almost killed Thire when he tracked a kriff ton of sand when he came back from a mission to Tatooine. Fox understood, every commander in the guard had to deal with Jabba’s shit. They all still had the outfits from it, kept locked up as both a badge of honor and one of the few possessions they could call their own. Fox _hated_ Tatooine. 

The jewelry Fox wasn’t against though; contrary to popular belief, Fox _didn’t hate_ the new attire. He just hated having to replace his armor and the potential blackmail involved with this situation, personally Fox thought he looked good (Thorn was very vocal in his agreement) Red gemstones alongside opal studded beads were probably the nicest things the guard owned. Ziro’s guards had managed to get some nice dark purple and champagne stones (and somehow a Tooka), which they use as a method for betting. Which reminded Fox that he would have to finish tallying up gem scores for their usual victory party. 

The door opened roughly and a Fox stared at the protocol droid ambled in, two guards behind it. 

“Clone,”

“Droid,” 

“The illustrious Jabba demands your presence,”

“The usual then?” Fox sighed, he remembered his last mission here, when he had been placed as eye-candy at Jabba’s side, a mere decoration for someone who wanted to grasp at all the control they had. _Not that it was any different from life at the Senate._

The guards untied him and Fox took advantage. Summoning Wolffe’s feral energy, he sank his teeth into the throat of one of his guards. _Gross gross grossgrossgross-_ Fox internally screamed as blood and sweat-slicked skin oozed from his mouth. He quickly grabbed the guard’s spear and kicked him into his companion impaling both. He stared the cowering protocol droid down, it kind of reminded him of C3PO as it blubbered. Fox sighed, nodded, pulled the spear out and bolted. 

The skirts flying around him as he silently thanked the gods they kept his compression shorts on instead of making him go bare like Thorn. _Heh. Poor di’kut._

Fox made a turn through the dark hall, coming to a stop at one of the corners. He panted, the pain in his arm and wrists making itself known. Fox pushed through when he heard heavy footsteps that represented the guards. Fox braced himself, tightening his hand on the knife he had apparently pocketed in his escape. 

Fox ground his teeth in aprehension, and quickly slammed his shoulder into the wall. A loud snap echoed through the empty hall and he heard the quickening of steps. He braced himself and leapt. 

He slammed his uninjured shoulder into the first guard, slashing the throat of the other guard. He ducked under the third guard’s attempt at hitting him, grabbing his arm and kicking his legs out from underneath him. Fox hissed as one of the men stabbed him, weaving around and quickly kneed him where the sun don’t shine. 

He dashed through the palace. At this point the guard knew it like clock work and Fox made his way towards the hanger bay. Looking at the transport ships, he quickly started hotwiring one, praying that he could garner enough brain cells to pilot this damn thing. He got the door open, ramp down and quickly boarded. Fumbling with the control panel and removing the ship’s tracking chip-and the spice, gods knew that Fox did _not_ need another bounty on his head. He had learned his lesson thank you very much. 

Fox slowly powered the ship, and fiddled with the controls. Praying to Fett that he could get out of this damn sandpit. He felt the rumble of the ship as he turned on the thrusters and sat down in the pilot’s seat. He breathed in, and prayed to anyone who was listening. And he guided the shuttle to the entrance. He flinched as he heard blaster shots, and quickly maneuvered out, blasting to the atmosphere. 

He slumped in the chair, hitting the hyperdrive to Florrum, where he would have to see ‘ _Ohnaka’_ Fox thought with disgust. Fox slowly began to strip from the flowy skirt and jewelry he was wearing. Because gods forbid that Ohnaka see him like that. Fox has about as much dignity as he does will to live, that is that it only exists around his brothers but Ohnaka might be the tipping point on that scale. The guards don’t _hate_ the front liners, but the front liners hate them, and if Cody hears about this then the frontliners will have new ammunition against him and his boys. And Fox will not have that. 

He folded the gems and jewelry into the skirt and lifted one of the floor boards and hid the red fabric to grab later. 

Fox began to look around the ship, finding a poncho and slowly tore the bottom into strips. Slowly binding his injured arm and the cut on his leg. He decided to ignore the smaller scratches and bruises and wait for a bacta patch. 

Sighing, he crashed into the pilot’s seat. Draping his legs on the armrest of the chair, moving his head to the other rest, stretching across the chair yawning, enjoying the lack of everything. 

For the next few hours, Fox went between dozing and consciousness. Recovering some of his lost sleep. He wondered how his men were doing. He hoped that he hadn't been gone too long, lord knows that his commanders will screw up the Republic if he’s gone for an extended period of time, mostly, Stone misspelling Senators’ names.

Gods he hoped they were functioning alright, there’s so much work that Fox has. Thorn cannot for the life of himself _do_ flimsiwork. Thire was young, and while Fox loved him dearly, he doesn’t have the constitution to deal with that much work. And Stone, who balances the Senate Guard and dealing with Senators who treat them all like the dirt on their robes. All three had so much on their plates, and if Fox wasn’t there to watch their backs something will go wrong because Fox is so fucked up he ends up halfway across the universe with no memory on how he got there. What if when he got back Thorn or Thire or Stone were gone and decommissioned, what if something happened to his men, or the frontliners did something stupid and now his men were paying the price. 

Fox turned around in the chair, burying his head into his arms as his shoulders shook. Slowly slipping into sleep, praying that he wakes up in his intended destination and not at Ryloth or Mustafar. 

**Author's Note:**

> Some more highlights from my drafts  
> -Fox gets put into a slave leia outfit (it's what we deserve)  
> -Fox hurts cause there aint no fox fanfic without fox getting fucked  
> -Fox summons his inner Wolffe and bites a bitch  
> -He sexy~~  
> -Run! Bitch! Run!  
> -Fox reveals his talents and hot wires a ship.


End file.
